


Gotta Catch Them All

by victorine



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Hannibal's murder onesie, ItsStillBeautiful, Kissing, Like really likes blood, M/M, Murder Husbands, Pokemon GO References, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will is a BAMF, Will likes blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7735960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's more than just wild Pokemon in the woods.</p>
<p>Sometimes, there's wild Murder Husbands too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Catch Them All

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry for Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive's ItsStillBeautiful event, this is my attempt to create the most ludicrous contribution to this amazing celebration.
> 
> Written in response to this prompt from [@supernormalx](http://supernormalx.tumblr.com/) on tumblr: "could you write a hannigram fic where one of them is addicted to pokémon go?"
> 
> I must confess, I know nothing about Pokemon. However, I've done my best to oblige, with the help and advice of my darling [HotMolasses](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HotMolasses/pseuds/HotMolasses), who is a fount of Pokemon knowledge and who also betaed this for me.

“ _Oh holy fucking Christ, what the fuck is this?_ ”

In retrospect, Will considers as he raises himself from Hannibal's lap, the post-kill make-out sessions were always bound to get them into trouble.

***

Their first kiss was in the aftermath of a kill. It had taken nine months of healing and running and planning (Will’s eager participation in which had finally dissolved all but one doubt that he wasn't fully committed to this new life) before Hannibal deemed them ready to hunt.

That one niggling last doubt hadn't truly been over whether he would kill or not, but whether anything could match up to the night on the cliff and what had passed between him and Hannibal. And, of course, when the moment finally came, it didn't hold quite the same transcendent power as they'd shared over the Dragon. But Will found he couldn't be disappointed by the feeling of being once more in perfect, wordless sync with Hannibal as they killed, utterly in tune with the other man’s beautifully brutal thoughts and movements.

He was also staggeringly, overwhelmingly aroused.

So he stalked over to Hannibal, embraced him in an echo of the cliff, and once more pulled them both into something new.

As their first kiss swiftly turned into their second and third, a few things became very clear to Will:

  1. There was at least one thing Hannibal was better at than cooking.
  2. Will never wanted to kiss anyone else, ever again.
  3. Bedelia had been entirely correct in her assessment of Hannibal's feelings for him.
  4. She'd also been on the money as far as Will’s feelings in return.
  5. Will really couldn't stand Bedelia.
  6. Blood was definitely a turn-on.



After that, there was no question that they were partners in every possible sense of the word and they settled easily into life as a couple. A change which, Will realised with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure, was really no change at all. Aside from the frequent (very frequent) inclusion of some unbelievably, intensely, life-alteringly _incredible_ sex, that is. They still had long, challenging conversations (it's just that Will was often in Hannibal's lap while they had them). Hannibal still cooked dinner and Will still fixed things (it's just that both of them frequently had a willing assistant/distraction in attendance). And they still hunted (it's just that often the bodies had cooled before they worked on them, because neither could keep their hands to themselves when the other was covered in blood).

***

Will has the interloper pinned to a tree, knife to his gut, before the guy can recover from his shock, so there's no real harm done. Later, Will is going to congratulate himself on being able to shut down Hannibal's legendary situational awareness with nothing more than his mouth. Right now, though, he has to admit they may have gotten a little sloppy. There really isn't a good enough excuse for failing to notice a grown man walking straight into your kill zone until he screams, not even that thing Hannibal does with his tongue.

Speaking of whom…

“Everything in hand, darling?” Hannibal asks pleasantly, entirely unruffled by the situation.

“For the moment.” Will’s voice is merely a growl in response, the tingle of adrenaline still affecting him. He holds his captive by the throat, ignoring his whimpers and giving him an assessing look up and down. Mid-twenties, high-end sportswear, designer beard. Will is put in mind of nothing so much as a young Frederick Chilton, a fact that hardly improves the man’s prospects of survival. Not that he’d really had any to begin with.

First though: “What are you doing here?” Will asks, taking note of the smartphone clutched in the guy's hand and reflecting that, if he turns out to be working for Freddie Lounds, he is going to let Hannibal get very creative indeed with his punishment.

The man tries to answer but, given that Will’s hand is crushing his windpipe, nothing comes out but a high-pitched squeak.

“You may have to loosen your grip just a tad, dearest,” Hannibal observes from where he has returned to harvesting organs from their _intended_ victim. No point in letting anything go to waste while Will is clearly in no need of aid.

Will growls again, but relaxes his hand slightly. “Speak,” he orders.

“P-P-Pokemon,” the man whimpers.

“What?”

“There's a-a Pokemon s-somewhere round here. I w-was hunting-”

Will cuts off his air supply again, with a muttered, “Oh god, no,” but it’s too late, the damage is done.

“What did he say?” comes the eager voice. Will hears Hannibal spring to his feet, plastic suit squeaking, and rush to his side. “Did he say there's one in the vicinity? What is it?”

Will sighs, and once again allows his soon-to-be-victim some air. “Come on, tell my partner what you've been hunting,” he says, in the weary tone of one indulging a hyperactive child, not a seasoned killer working someone over for information.

“I-if I tell you, w-will you promise not to k-kill me?” the young man asks, his voice strangled with fear.

Will shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

The guy's eyes dart from Will's sardonic expression to Hannibal's smirk. “I d-don't b-believe you.”

Will shrugs again and snaps the guy's neck. “Probably wise,” he drawls, dropping the corpse to the ground.

“ _Will_!” Hannibal's voice is an unfamiliar whine. “He hadn't answered me yet!”

“Seriously?”

Until they had lived together, Will hadn't been aware that Hannibal was capable of making puppy eyes, but it was an expression he found himself on the receiving end of more often than he could believe. Like now, in the middle of their oh-so-carefully planned and utterly ruined crime scene.

Will sighs. Again. “Look, his phone’s still live, that'll tell you what the damn thing is.”

“Of course.” Will has to suppress a laugh at the eager speed with which Hannibal drops into a crouch to retrieve the device.

It had started as a way to entertain Hannibal while they walked the dogs (only two so far, but Will has designs on a border collie at the local shelter). Will hadn't really expected Hannibal to even look at it beyond a cursory inspection and dismissal.

He really, _really_ needs to learn not to try to predict Hannibal anymore.

It had quickly devolved into an obsession. Not quite up to the level of Hannibal's continued fixation on Will himself, but enough so that Will was seriously considering hunting down some of Nintendo’s higher-ups in order to show them the true meaning of pain.

“Oh, it's just a Weedle.”

“Is that bad?”

“Well, certainly nothing worth losing one’s life over.”

“Oh good, so I doubled our body count for a bunch of underwhelming pixels.”

Hannibal cocks his head disapprovingly. “You were protecting us, Will. For which I am both honoured and grateful.”

Not to mention, judging by his blown pupils, immensely turned on.

“Great, then you can demonstrate your gratitude by giving me a hand moving this poor sucker’s body.”

Hannibal pouts (causing Will to a: marvel for the thousandth time over how Hannibal is the only person in the world who pouts with his upper lip, and b: deeply regret that they weren't still making out). “It is very close, though, _mylimasis_ , it would take only a moment to capture…” Hannibal says, pulling his own phone out of his pocket. If Hannibal could wheedle, he is doing so now.

“You're abandoning me for a Pokemon?” Will asks, flatly.

“Do you have expectations of me now, Will?”

“Pick a number between three and eight.”

“Eight.”

“That's how many times I _expect_ you to make me come in the next thirty-six hours in return for finding that game more interesting than me.”

Hannibal steps into Will’s space at this, and places a hand on his cheek. “ _Nothing_ is more interesting to me than you, Will Graham.”

“But you're still gonna run off and catch that Wendell.”

“Weedle.”

“Whatever.”

“Yes.”

“Fine. But they'd better be eight _spectacular_ orgasms.”

Hannibal smirks. “Do I ever provide you with anything else?”

Will tries not to grin and fails utterly. “No.”

A brief kiss, the faintest graze of tongue against Will’s lips, then he’s gone.

Will watches as Hannibal Lecter, legendary serial killer, monstrous cannibal, love of Will’s life, fair scampers off into the bushes, stupid plastic suit still squeaking with every motion. Will shakes his head, feeling irritatingly fond of his ridiculous partner, and begins dragging the second corpse over to lie by the first. He looks down at the mess and rolls his eyes as a shout of triumph sounds in the distance.

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” he tells the corpses, and waits for his hunter to return.


End file.
